


Play Date

by M3m3mnt0M0r1



Category: Yandere Simulator (Video Game)
Genre: A Bi Icon, Accidental Voyeurism, Acquaintances to Lovers, Ayano Seduces All Rivals to Distract Them From Senpai, Bathroom Sex, Bisexual Disaster Ayano Aishi, Bisexual Disaster Rivals, Bisexual Female Character, Canon Bisexual Character, Clothed Sex, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Kinda, Kitchen Sex, Light Angst, Masturbation, One-Sided-Enemies to Lovers, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rivals Catch Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, eventually, ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-25 20:50:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20377909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M3m3mnt0M0r1/pseuds/M3m3mnt0M0r1
Summary: I don't give a fuck about you anyway/Who ever said I gave a shit 'bout you?/You never share your toys or communicate/I guess I'm just a play date to you*******Ayano sleeps her way through the rivals, stealing their hearts along the way.





	1. Hide and Seek

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking on "Play Date"! This is my first time writing smut, so feel free to leave tips or suggestions in the comments! Onto the story!

"I feel bad for asking, but... would you be willing to go into the hedge maze and get my phone charm for me?" 

It starts out simple.

The girl's lips turn up, and it's an empty smile, yet Osana finds herself ensnared. "Of course, Najimi-san." The name spills out of those glossy lips, soft as velvet, as if every syllable has care put into its pronunciation. <strike> She wonders what else her mouth can do. </strike> Osana flushes. 

Ayano steps closer and raises a hand to the carrot top's forehead. "Are you alright, Najimi-san?You feel a bit hot." Her heart flutters behind her ribs, and she is mute. Ayano's close. Like. Kissing-distance-close. To avoid staring into said girl's eyes, she looks downward. Right into her breasts.

Osana stares, unblinking. One, two, three beats of silence.

"Najimi-san?" Osana snaps out of it, shakes her head, and rubs her eyes. This is no time to be a horny teenager. 

She forces herself to smile. "Y-yeah." She swallows. "I'm fine." Ayano's expression remains blank. The ravenette waits, blinks once, twice. 

Then, she winks. So fast Osana, looking back, thinks she imagined it. 

A bow. "I'll go look for your charm, Najimi-san. I'll see you around." Even in retrospection, Osana knows that the way Ayano's hip sway as she walks away is intentional. 

Later, it gets complex. 

It's cleaning time, and Ayano shoves Osana against the bathroom wall. Goosebumps rise on her arms as her back touches the chilled tile.

The other girl pounces on her, roughly thrusting her tongue into Osana's mouth. It's carnal, a relationship based on physical attraction and nothing more.

So why can't Osana make herself believe that?

Ayano moves closer and presses into the carrot top. Their breasts rub together and Osana moans into the ravenette's mouth, throws her arms around Ayano's neck, desperate for more friction. She presses her legs together. Of course, Ayano notices this. Ayano notices everything. Osana, in her most secret fantasies, thinks it'd make her an extraordinary girlfriend. Not for her, of course. That'd be weird. And it'd ruin their arrangement. 

A hand squeezes her breasts and crawls down her torso, finally resting at her crotch. It dives beneath the pleated skirt, rubs against the cotton polka-dotted panties there. Osana lets out a gasp of surprise, and slips her hands down to Ayano's butt to return the favor. 

The ravenette growls, a primal sound that reverberates in her mouth, and her other hand supports Osana's thigh, hiking up the leg to rest, bent, against her hip. The rubbing intensifies, and the new angle dampens the already wet spots on her underwear.

She whines. "Ayanooo, please." Honorifics slip her mind and all she can focus on is the steady burning in her core.

A slasher smile. The hand stops moving and her leg drops down. "Wha-" Osana opens her eyes. The bathroom is empty--except for the mop and bucket judging her from the corner. 

"AISHI-SAAAAAAN!"


	2. Hard to Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for tuning in to "Play Date"! This chapter has a bit more lead-up to the smut, but it also has more smut, so, that's a thing. Enjoy!

Osana's phone buzzes from her schoolbag during class. Thankfully, her bag is soft enough to muffle the sound, but her heartrate still jumps a little when she hears it go off. When the teacher faces the chalkboard, she fishes the device out and clicks the lock button.

A single notification greets her. 

_ Second floor bathroom. ASAP. I'll meet you there in a few minutes. _ Osana wishes she could sigh aloud. She turns to the right, feigning a stretch. Ayano is staring at her face, pupils nearly overcoming the irises. It gives Osana chills. The teacher starts to turn around, and she tosses her phone into her open schoolbag. 

She raises her hand. The teacher purses her lips. Waits. Sighs after a near minute. "Yes, Najimi-san?"

"May I use the restroom, Sensei?"

The teacher remains silent, deliberating. After a short while, Osana starts to count. One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, four one thousand... 

"Yes, Najimi-san. Return quickly." Thank goodness. Osana slides out of her desk and hurries to the door. She pivots, bows to the teacher, opens the door, and then steps out of the room, closing the door as she exits.

The student council should be in class now. She doesn't have to worry about them. Still, the carrot top looks down each side of the hallway, twin tails swishing. She all but sprints to the restroom. Ayano is soon to follow, surely. Then the fun will begin. Osana feels her face growing hot.

As she steps into the bathroom, she notices the light is already on. Her hopes take a nose dive. The lights are motion-sensors; someone's in there. Ugh. She's too horny for this shit. Rather than go into a stall, Osana stands by the sink, arms crossed. Thirty seconds later, Ayano strolls in. Osana gives her a grin.

The ravenette opens her mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by a flush. Horuda Puresu ambles out of the single occupied stall, clutching her arms and looking green. She flicks her eyes up at the two girls and then stares at the sink. 

Her hands swish together beneath the stream of water, and soap bubbles spill over her hands. Osana rolls her eyes. Could Horuda be taking any longer? She huffs as the waif--finally--turns the faucet off. Ayano snickers. 

As soon as Horuda's shadow passes into the hallway, Osana snatches Ayano's hand and throws her into a stall, hopping in after her. She sucks on the ravenette's bottom lip, needing to be closer closer closer. She extends an arm backward, fumbling for the lock. God, it's harder to fiddle with than a bra. Osana growls into Ayano's mouth, then the lock clicks. Fucking finally.

She flings her arm forward to embrace Ayano, and she shoves her into a sitting position on the toilet. The ravenette lets out an "oof" as the falls to the seat. Osana kneels on the pristine tile floor--an ironic juxtaposition for the girls' activities.

Licking her lips, she tugs Ayano's skirt down her legs, and--oh my God she's wearing a thong. Osana practically drools, hypnotized by the other girl's labia. It's shiny, and Osana can see its wetness--she has this effect on Ayano? Damn, she's good. 

Rather than taking off the thong--which feels impossible to Osana--she just shoves her finger into the ravenette's snatch. Her eyes widen, then her eyelids drop to half-mast. Meanwhile, Osana's finger faces less and less resistance with each motion. She adds another digit. Ayano moans, and shoves a fist into her mouth to muffle it. Her cheeks glow pink and sweat beads on her forehead. From Osana's angle, the fluorescent lighting is a halo. Surely a human can't appear this holy. 

Ayano's vagina starts tensing and slackening against her fingers. The switches are quicker faster quicker faster--her vagina clamps down on Osana's digits, and juices gush all over her hand. Osana removes it and licks all the liquids off. The ravenette's leaning against the wall now, her chest rising and falling and rising and falling. 

A devious idea enters Osana's mind. She grips each side of the thong with two fingers, and it comes away with a slosh. 

Ayano is still seeing stars as she feels something rough against her crotch. She straightens her posture--tries to really, her body is jelly--and is greeted by the carrot top slurping away at her folds. Osana lifts the ravenette's legs--one over each shoulder--and Ayano tightens them around her neck. The carrot top's tongue goes deeper deeper deeper and oh God it bumps her clit. Slamming her eyes shut, she whimpers. Ayano. Aishi. Fucking. Whimpers.

Osana maneuvers her tongue back to the throbbing organ. She presses against it with the pad, and moves in infinitesimal circles. Ayano's thighs squeeze her head; she's so damn close. A low murmur makes its way out of throat. "Oshana..."

The carrot top pretends not to hear, and speaks onto Ayano's clit. "What'd you say, Aishi-san?"

Louder this time. "Osana..."

She squints her eyes and grins. "That's better." Her voice tickles, and Ayano shivers. She grinds into Osana's face now, spreading her juices all over the other girl's mouth. 

"O-osanaaa..." Ayano's thighs begin to tense and tighten, but Osana ducks away. The ravenette's eyes spring open. The carrot top rises to her feet, unlocks the stall, and strides out. 

It isn't until Ayano regains her senses that she notices her thong is missing.


	3. Under the Sheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Osana angsts over Ayano while reconnecting with friends. She also tries to join the Cooking Club, with interesting results...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a year, here's a rather beefy update. Thanks for remaining patient! Here's chapter three of Play Date. I hope y'all enjoy it

Osana glares at the worksheet before her. What is CH4 (methane)'s shape? She consults her notes. Methane has four things connected to its central atom, so it's...she flips the page. Tetrahedral. She copies the answer onto her paper. 

"Osanaaaaa." Raibaru drags out, from her spot across the bed. 

"What? It's homework. If Fukahori-sensei didn't want us to use our notes, why'd she make us write them?" Still, her best friend frowns at her. Osana tries to keep working--she really does, honest--but Raibaru continues to stare at her, shaming her, judging her. Osana sighs. "Fine. I won't use my notes for the rest of the sheet. Happy?" Raibaru hums in approval, bobbing her head in a semi-nod, pigtails swishing. 

The motion reminds Osana of last week's restroom romp. When she shoved Ayano into the stall, kisses all tongue and teeth, her ponytail had swung with similar momentum. It had whipped around even faster--a hurricane of charcoal strands--when Osana had eaten her out. Ayano had writhed like a fish out of water, hips rocking back and forth across Osana's mouth. 

God, it was hot. 

Osana moves to press her legs together. Damn Ayano, getting her worked up even without being there. 

"Osana?" She blinks. Raibaru's here. Right. Her cheeks redden. 

"Yeah?"

Raibaru crosses her arms. "Did you even listen to what I was talking about?"

"The ethics of using notes on homework?" Osana fumbles her answer. 

Her best friend raises a hand to massage her eyebrows. "No." Osana lowers her eyes to examine her comforter. She clutches the fabric in her hand, busying herself with kneading it. Now it's Raibaru's turn to sigh. 

"Are you thinking about a guy?" Not exactly. But Osana can't just say that; Raibaru values tradition--part of why she learned and succeeded at martial arts--and who's to say if that extends to sexuality? They've only been friends for a year, close as they are, and Osana hasn't been able to bring herself to ask.

Raibaru must take her hesitance as confirmation, because she smiles and leans forward. "Oh my gosh. It totally is! That must be why you've been spacing out in class!" 

Osana slaps on a shaky grin and nods slowly. "Yeah. I though you wouldn't notice."

Raibaru punches her arm. "Oh, you sly dog, you underestimate me!" She sits back on her calves and grabs Osana's hands. "So who's the lucky guy? Is he in our class?"

"Y-yeah." She croaks out. Ayano is in their class, so she's not entirely lying. 

Impossibly, Raibaru's grin gets bigger. "Oh. My. Gosh. Is it Yodogawa-kun? Atsuzawa-kun? Somatomo-kun? Akanishi-kun? Denkashiza-kun? Zaishi-kun? Dubidu-kun? Renbutsu-kun? Hikitsuri-kun? C'mon, tell me!"

Osana shakes her head a little. "You didn't have to list every guy in our class; I know their names." She puffs out her cheeks. 

Raibaru laughs. "Stop stalling. Who is he?" 

Shit. Who's most believable? Who does she have most in common with? Yodogawa is a narcissist, so he's out. Atsuzawa is into all that creepy occult stuff. Somatomo clearly has eyes for Harukawa, and Osana--even as a lie--doesn't wanna mess with that. Akanishi might do. He likes cooking, and seems genial enough--if a little obsessed with the west. Actually, a lot obsessed with the west. 

Denkashiza is way too edgy for Raibaru to be okay with. Zaishi is a nerd. Dubidu is a slacker. Renbutsu...well, Raibaru knows Renbutsu; they were in the Martial Arts club together. If Osana says it's him, then Raibaru will make it her mission to ensure they get together. So he's out. That leaves--

"Hikitsuri-san." Raibaru's face falls. Osana plays with one of her ponytails and thinks of Ayano--she needs an authentic demeanor to sell it. "I know, I don't wanna like him." She stares at her carpet. "But he's hot, y'know?" She flicks her eyes up to meet Raibaru's and offers a small simper. Her cheeks burn as her friend continues their makeshift staring contest. Thank God she didn't slip up and use the wrong pronouns. The accurate ones, in all honesty. 

Raibaru purses her lips. "I guess, but...Hikitsuri Gaku? You have a crush on a delinquent? You need to raise your standards." 

Osana leans backward and shoves a pillow in front of her face. "You're telling me." She murmurs into the fabric. 

After that remark, Raibaru--thankfully--drops the topic and returns to homework, allowing Osana to finish her own assignments. They sit in peaceable quiet for a while, the only noise pencils scratching on paper or occasional under-the-breath reading. Soon enough, it's almost nine o'clock and Raibaru is mounting her bicycle to ride home, waving to Osana before pedalling away. 

It's then and only then that Osana decides to allow herself to think of Ayano again. More accurately, why Ayano hasn't talked to her since the aforementioned quickie. Was something up with her? She'd been in class every day since, so she wasn't ill. The Rainbow Six hadn't reported any new rumors or drama about her, so it couldn't have been a personal problem. Did Osana do something? Was she too forward? Was she not forward enough? What was the problem? 

She has to find out. In person. If not to continue their arrangement, then for closure. The speculation (and the not-knowing that inspired it) have been clouding her mind, blocking out more important stimuli. Like Raibaru. Like homework. Like Taro. 

Osana hasn't talked to him in a few days, too caught up in Hurricane Ayano. In fact, the girl's presence in some less-than-innocent dreams coerced Osana into sleeping in. Which made her blow Taro off, leaving him to walk to school alone. And Raibaru had insisted on giving her self-defense lessons after cleaning time--some creep had gotten Osana's number, left disturbing messages, and managed to circumvent being blocked--so she had missed walking home with Taro too. 

He hasn't texted, which isn't too unusual; he prefers phone calls rather than texts ("They portray accurate inflection and can't be misinterpreted.") and typically limits his calls to emergencies; his shitty phone plan has something like fifteen minutes of call time on it. But the same plan also has unlimited data, so he definitely should've contacted her on social media by now. If not with a DM, at least with a lengthy literary analysis essay that she couldn't care less about; that was the type of content he consumed, nerdy weirdo he was.

Shit. Does he think she's avoiding him? Or that he did something to warrant her avoiding him? He can get trapped inside his head, and he's a touch too sentimental. When he was little, the dummy had cried about stepping on an ant. A freaking ant. He had sobbed about the late ant's untapped potential and the family that would live without it. Even held a mini-funeral where four-year-old Hanako delivered what was supposed to be a eulogy. 

Five-year-old Osana had recognized the bullshit, had punched the idiot for being a crybaby, but still attended the service. Something about his compassion, the fact that he cared about some dumb bug...it was endearing, oddly enough. Made him a little adorable. And the way he'd smiled when she showed up, so wide his eyes were closed...it had made her feel special. Even if it was only because another person had shown up--she's certain he would've reacted the same way had any other kid attended--it started what would become a interminable crush. 

Sorta like the one she now has on one Aishi Ayano. 

Dammit. There Ayano is, steering her mind away from Taro again. She shakes her head, hoping the physical cue will forcibly clear her thoughts. But the motion simply reminds her of how Ayano's soft, pale thighs had locked her head in place, how she'd been too entranced tongue-fucking Ayano to even care. Now she's wet. Ugh. 

Maybe a call to Taro will kill the mood. Osana picks up her cell and scrolls to Taro's number, then presses it with the pad of her finger. She holds the device to her ear as it rings once, twice, thr--

"What's up?" Taro asks, like no time has passed since their last conversation.

"'What's up?'" Osana parrots. "What's up is we haven't talked in a while, dummy. How are you?"

"I'm alright." His speech is stilted, practiced. 

"Cut the bullshit, Stepford Smiler. How are you really?" If the literary reference doesn't take him out of his funk, the blunt honesty should. 

He huffs out a sigh. "A little annoyed. How are you?" It's a simple question. Truly, she should be able to spout out some lie and get to apologizing, but this is Taro she's talking to. Her bleeding heart, bishie-wannabe, book-smart neighbor Taro. Even if she wanted to lie to him--which she really, really does--the years of crushing on him have worn down her ability.

"Th-that doesn't matter right now. Anyway, I called to apologize." She bites her lip.

"Oh?" He sounds amused. Osana's eye twitches. 

"Sh-shut up. I realize I've been kinda blowing you off, and I haven't been intending to." She pauses. He's listening. Now for the explanation. "I keep sleeping past my alarm--that's why I miss you in the mornings--and Raibaru's been teaching me self-defense after school, so I haven't been able to walk home with you either." Concise, and (somewhat) truthful. So what if she left out the wet dreams and the pseudo-stalker?

"Okay. Aaaaaaand?" He sounds like he's smiling. That's a good sign.

"You're gonna make me say it?" Osana feigns a whining tone.

"Mhm." 

"Ugh. Fiiiiine." She rolls her eyes. "I'm sorry. There."

A playful response. "I accept your apology."

"So now that that's out of the way...What have you been up to?"

"I've been spending a bit of time in the Cooking Club." 

"Really? Did you join?" Osana twirls her hair around her finger. She's no longer horny, but she needs something to do with her hands. 

"Not yet. Odayaka-san seems really sweet," Taro starts.

"It's in her name, duh." Osana cuts in.

"But I'm not too good at cooking. I managed to screw up instant rice."

"The instructions are on the box, dummy--"

"Exactly." 

She's missed this the last few days. The easy banter, the light conversation. To fall into a role and a comfortable routine. It's slow, mellow. A far cry from the rapid, intense encounters with Ayano. She should be satisfied. This should be enough. But she wants--needs--more. Ayano's spoiled her, shown her there's more to love than settling for pining after some clueless dolt. 

Wait, love? She finds Ayano attractive--no denying that--but love? Love is built through years of shared experiences--she's known the girl intimately for a week; this cannot be love. These feelings are a crush and nothing more. They'll subside eventually. Osana just has to wait. Perhaps a hobby will get the ravenette off of her mind.

"Do you know when Odayaka-san gets to school? I wanna give the Cooking Club a try too." 

"I know she's in the clubroom at seven, so maybe a bit before then. Six fifty-five?" Osana makes a mental note. "Anyway, should you join, I think you're going to have to do it alone. Besides my rice failure, I made some more flops that personally offended several club members."

"What'd you do, destroy their dishes? God, you're such a klutz."

Taro gives a nervous laugh. "Something like that. I earned Ashitomi-san's scorn by confusing zaru soba with naengmyeon. Then I corrected Akanishi-kun's poor English, which he took very personally. Mayuzumi-san took pity on me and trusted me with a cake recipe, but I mixed up the sugar with salt. Tsuburaya-kun witnessed all my failures, declared me hopeless, and has started turning around in class to glare at me in disapproval."

Osana snorts. "I'm bound to perform better than you. You hit rock bottom and kept digging."

"Just like Hamlet once his father's ghost appears." Taro quips. Again with the shitty lit references. 

"Whatever, dummy. Good night." After he wishes her the same, she hangs up. 

Normally he would have complained about using his minutes; it wasn't life-or-death after all. He must have really missed her. Osana decides then and there that tomorrow she will get things back to normal. Tomorrow she will walk to school with Taro--regardless of how much she wants to stay in bed and indulge in a dirty dream. Tomorrow she will confront Ayano about whatever the fucking problem is. Tomorrow she will pull herself together and get her thoughts back. Starting with the Cooking Club. 

Before she knows it, it's tomorrow. She wakes up on time, still half-asleep; her body got used to waking up fifteen minutes later--even if it was only for a few days. As a result, Osana's nearly catatonic on the walk to school. Taro doesn't seem to mind, filling the silence with stories about the strange dreams he had the night before. The only one her mind processes is one about some cherry tree. 

She's switching her shoes when her brain kicks back in. Cooking Club. She needs to go to the Cooking Club. To talk to Odayaka. To learn about her club--i.e. the Cooking Club. Ugh. Osana shuffles out of the locker area into the hallway. She glances back to see Taro still changing his shoes. Slow poke. She mumbles a goodbye he doesn't hear, then turns left to continue her odyssey. 

Osana passes a classroom, and almost misses her turn. Head in the game, Najimi. She steps back from the stairs, and pivots right, now passing the nurse's office. A white figure moves in her peripheral vision. Upon closer inspection, it's just the nurse. Damn, what time does she get here? She doesn't teach any curriculum, and the school day hasn't officially started yet, so there's really no reason for her to be here. Unless kids really get sick so early in the day? But it'd be off-the-clock work, so maybe she gets paid extra? Too many questions for seven o'clock in the morning. 

Soft voices from the next room filter into the hallway. The faculty room. A peak through the window reveals six teachers flipping through papers, grading assignments, murmuring about lesson plans. They have a reason to be here this early. 

Osana notices the guidance counselor in her office, typing at her laptop. But what about? Nothing ever happens at Akademi. Aside from her trysts with Ayano, that is. And they were furtive about the whole thing. Maybe the delinquents did something, or those Occult Club freaks--they have a fucking skull in their clubroom, seriously, what the fuck, how is that allowed--performed some sort of Satanic ritual. Or perhaps those gyaru chicks finally got dress-coded. Too many possibilities. She shuffles onward. 

She catches the turn this time and pauses in front of the Cooking Club door. Should she knock first, or just slide it open? If Odayaka's in there, then she's most likely baking and/or cooking--both activities that don't require a lot of concentration--so she won't mind the intrusion either way. Knocking would probably disturb her more than walking in unannounced. Osana slides the door open, and steps into the dining area. 

No one's there, but she notices a bowl of somewhat-mixed batter in the kitchen. It's sitting on the island, spilled flour and sugar encircling it like a halo. Odayaka's? It could belong to any of the Cooking Club members, but they typically arrived later. Either way, the batter smells delicious. She could scoop some out with her finger and the mystery baker would be none the wiser. No. Osana has no idea what's in the batter, and she would have to wash her hands before and after handling it. Damn hygiene, giving her inhibitions. She waits in the dining area to resist temptation. 

The door in front of the kitchen area slides open, and Osana, feeling as if she's somehow intruded, hides in the corner, between the exterior wall and the partial interior wall. 

"Were you making cupcakes, Odayaka-san?" What. The. Fuck. 

"I was going to surprise you, but I wanted to greet you as you arrived, so I got distracted and forgot to finish them." Odayaka sounds displeased, but in a playful way, like a kid fake-pouting for attention. "I hope you can forgive me, Aishi-san." 

Osana can hear the smirk in her voice. "Of course, but you're going to have to work for it." Odayaka lets out a surprised gasp, and then Osana hears kissing. Not a light peck either--bedroom, pre-fuck-me-silly kissing. The sound goes straight to her groin.

Between kisses, the ravenette asks, "So where'd you put our little friend?"

The brunette pants her response, "Top drawer...next to fridge..." 

The make-out session stops. Footsteps, then a drawer opening. Something jingles, then the drawer closes. More footsteps, then sounds of vague movement. Footsteps again.

"You're going to finish baking, but stay quiet." Ayano commands.

Odayaka giggles, then clears her throat. "Yes, ma'am."

"Also, stare toward the hallway. You're to keep your expression as unbothered as possible."

Odayaka repeats herself, "Yes, ma'am."

After that exchange, Osana permits herself to peek through the wall's opening. There's Ayano, standing behind Odayaka as she stirs the batter, pressing against the girl's back. A hand slides under the brunette's skirt, and she stifles a moan as, presumably, Ayano starts to finger her. 

"Shush." Ayano whispers into her ear. Odayaka nods in response. 

It's all to easy for Osana to slide her own hand into her panties, press the pad of her finger against her clit, and make leisurely circles. Pangs of pleasure force her to lean against the wall, though she can still stand. 

Odayaka's skirt ruffles as Ayano adds another finger. Odayaka swallows her squeal before it leaves her lips. The squishy sound makes Osana even wetter, and she slides a finger into her hole. The ravenette begins to trail kisses along the brunette's neck, and her stirs get slower and slower. 

Ayano pulls away. "Did I say you could stop?" 

Odayaka's jaw moves to open her mouth, but she remembers her task and closes it, shaking her head no and continuing to stir the batter. 

"Good girl." The praise, though not directed toward her, has Osana pressing another finger into her vagina. She strokes the inside of her walls, so tight and warm around her fingers. So nice and filling. Soon she's wet enough to slip in a third finger with ease. The motion has her toes curling and legs clenching. "I'd say you've earned a reward." Osana stuffs a fist in her mouth to muffle the moan threatening to leave it. 

Ayano backs up a step, and holy shit she's wearing a strap-on. A black, shiny, girthy strap-on. Osana hadn't seen it under the ravenette's skirt--the harness must have been quite high. Immediately, Osana pretends that the toy, rather than her three fingers, is pounding her pussy mercilessly. 

Ayano lifts the back of Odayaka's skirt, and pushes her damp panties to the crease of her thigh. As she presses the strap-on into Odayaka, the brunette falls forward, resting her weight on her elbows--though she continues to stir the batter, dedicated to her task. The black toy disappears slowly, and once it's fully sheathed inside, Ayano freezes. Osana finds herself freezing too.

Dammit. She was close, so fucking close, and Ayano stopped. She almost huffs in frustration--then remembers she's not supposed to be here. Which revives her arousal. She starts to move her fingers again--slowly, so the girls in the next room can't hear sloshing sound of her wetness--and stares at the couple. 

"Are you finished stirring?" Ayano asks. Odayaka nods, though she's breathing heavily. "Hmm, you've done everything I've asked. You deserve a treat for your obedience." Osana speeds up her fingers, pleasure building with each thrust. Ayano moves her hips backward, exposing all but the dildo's tip, then snaps her hips forward, setting a vicious pace. 

As her thighs smack into the back of Odayaka's legs, the sloshing sound grows louder. Ayano trails bites and kisses down the brunette's neck. Her throat will have a collar of bruises when she's done. Osana strains her wrist to extend her thumb, grinding the digit into her clit as her fingers continue their work. Her abdomen is on fire. The scorching grows stronger stronger stronger as Odayaka fails to repress her moans, the whines getting louder and wobblier.

As Osana tips over the edge of her orgasm, she bites down on her fist, tasting copper. Odayaka lets out a shameless yell that surely reaches the hallway--and any students in the Drama Club room. Ayano fucks her through it, hips never slowing, as the brunette climaxes, her body shaking with pleasure. Odayaka's elbows collapse, and she faceplants into spilled flour. The ravenette withdraws the strap-on and chuckles. 

"Why don't you go wash up in the bathroom, Amai?" Osana's eyes, which had been half-closed in the aftermath of her orgasm, burst open. Ayano was on a first-name basis with Odayaka? Yeah, the two hadn't just fucked--and several times before this, judging by their earlier dialogue--but really? Already? It'd taken Osana at least three encounters with Ayano before she'd felt comfortable calling her that. Likewise, Ayano hadn't called the carrot top by her name until Osana had done it for her. 

How long has this been going on? It couldn't have started when Ayano was seducing her. Could it have? Did it start a little ways into their relationship? Or after the restroom romp? Did this mean her and Ayano were no longer a thing? Or is Ayano intending to keep seeing both girls simultaneously? Osana doesn't think she can handle being the other woman; she needs to know her partner values her above all other girls--except maybe their mom, but that's a different type of love anyway. 

Still, she can't confront her just yet; the ravenette isn't aware she's here. 

"Mhm. Will do, Yan-chan." Amai stands up, turns to face Ayano, and Osana pulls back in time. She hears a kiss--just a peck this time--then presses herself into the corner once more. She crouches to make sure the brunette doesn't see her as she exits the room. Once Odayaka has entered the hallway, Osana hears footsteps approach the door and slide it closed. 

"You can come out now, Osana; Amai won't be back for a while. Did you enjoy the show?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your support! I really appreciate your kudos and comments. Once more, I apologize for the almost-year since the last update. Thanks for reading and have a nice day!


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